


Baby, I Feel Like a Bomb

by NoMournerNoFunerals93



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU!!!, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Dirty Talk, M/M, Riding, Slight Overstimulation, Spicy language, Thighs, Top Miya Atsumu, dont perceive me, i may have projected a little, in more than one way, poor attempt at humor, thirst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27966110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoMournerNoFunerals93/pseuds/NoMournerNoFunerals93
Summary: “So, are we doing this?” he asks when Atsumu just stands there openly gaping at him.“Wha-huh? Whadda ya…” Atsumu clears his throat. Tries again. “Doing what?”“You were watching me so hard you almost dropped a weight on your foot. I think you know which ‘what’ I’m referring to,” he deadpans.Or Atsumu takes one look at the stranger on the treadmill and thirsts so hard he makes an absolute fool of himself trying to get his attention.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 37
Kudos: 467
Collections: HQ Thirstmas 2020, SAKUATSU TROPE BINGO, stories that touched me





	Baby, I Feel Like a Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> HQ Thirstmas 2020 submission for Day 2: Thighs/Overstimulation~~
> 
> If you have ever seen a fanweek with the prompt ‘thighs’ and didn’t immediately think of Atsumu, this might not be the fic for you. Cause I mean... hot damn.
> 
> No, but in all seriousness, I’m definitely projecting here so I apologize in advance for my thirst. If you’re reading this, I hope you enjoy!

As Atsumu pulls into the parking lot of the gym, he can’t help but find it a little sparse for the time of day. Atsumu isn’t necessarily upset with the turn of events, but there is nothing quite like having multiple sets of eyes ogling him as he works out for an extra boost of motivation, something to encourage adding the extra weight to his routine when he would otherwise just do his standard sets.

Still, he isn’t about to let such a thing stand in his way, either. Atsumu is plenty capable of inspiring himself, thank you very much.

That, and of course the gentle reminder at the back of his mind of how he’d left the kitchen back home was incentive enough to linger at the gym as long as possible today. Osamu would have his ass either way, but if Atsumu times his arrival back home just enough, he will probably tire of waiting on Atsumu to make dinner, and just wash the dishes himself. He might even take it easy on him if he feigns having pulled something in his workouts.

Small mercies.

After signing in, Atsumu makes quick work of stuffing his gym bag into his usual locker, bypassing the sea of blessedly empty and available equipment in favor of heading to the zone allocated for stretching and yoga.

The off season always throws Atsumu for a loop. Where his year is predominantly jam-packed full of volleyball and all the chaos that comes with it, Atsumu doesn’t find himself with too much free time, and though he always grumbles about it, his competitive nature thrives in the fast pace of it all. The off season, though, is a different story entirely. Atsumu can’t stand sitting still, hates to let anytime go to waste on the mind-numbing activities he finds to fill the void. Idle hands and all that jazz.

And while the gym is mostly vacant, Atsumu can’t help but size up its occupants. He isn’t above admitting to the way he can turn anything and everything into a competition. After living with Osamu and being attached at the hip since birth, he thinks it’s only natural for his brain to be wired with this character flaw in place.

There was a point in their childhood, before one-ups-manship was even a thought in their minds, where the only things that mattered were catching lightning bugs in the garden behind their house after dark, finding sticks to sword fight with in the afternoon, and having a friend for every moment in between. As they grew out and up, however, their personalities developed, and for all their differences, one similarity will always remain, and it explains why Atsumu is now looking through the gym with a critical stare.

That is, until his eyes meet that of the Greek God running on the treadmill a fair distance away. Clad in a black, sleeveless dri-fit that clings tight to his body and shorts that hang low on his hips, the man looks more myth than anything Atsumu’s ever seen in real life, his biceps sculpted as if they’re made from marble itself. Atsumu can barely make out the sweat that glistens on his skin, might not be able to at all were it not for the way his body shifts under the dull fluorescent lighting.

Atsumu sits far enough from him that it takes a few moments before he shies away from letting his stare linger. If the man hasn’t felt Atsumu staring a hole in the side of his head by now, he’s bound to soon. Atsumu really has no desire to explain himself, content to admire from afar.

Still, when the man uses the hem of his shirt to mop the built-up sweat on his brow, Atsumu finds himself rushing through his stretches, making sure to limber up just enough that his muscles don’t quit on him mid-workout. He doesn’t want to be completely out of commission when he returns home just in case he has to defend himself from Samu’s fists. His eagerness  _ definitely  _ spurs from his excitement to get after it, and has nothing at all to do with wanting to get a closer look at the unbelievably attractive stranger.

It’s useless, though. No matter how many times Atsumu repeats the mantra in his head, he still finds himself rushing over to the treadmills when he finishes up.

The gym only contains a narrow line of the running equipment, granting Atsumu the perfect excuse to vacate a treadmill only two spots away from the man in question. Very calm, and not at all panicking over the proximity, Atsumu mounts the track and puts his settings in order, deferring to start off slow, if for no other reason than to allow himself glances without the threat of tripping over his own feet.

He busies his hands with choosing a playlist and throwing in his earbuds as he trots. Atsumu needs to ensure that he at least makes it  _ seem _ like he has no ulterior motives, which was the initial plan anyways, therefore not too much of a stretch from the truth.

He works himself up to a steady jog, focusing his line of sight to a spot against the wall and willing his brain to not succumb to the urge to see if the stranger has taken any notice of him. It’s not like Atsumu wants anything to do with anyways, he’s merely just curious how a man  _ that _ attractive can just exist in the world. It’s a harmless infatuation.

With that thought in mind, Atsumu chances a quick glance to the side, increasing his speed a bit to avoid any suspicion, but  _ god _ , was that a mistake, because now he’s bearing witness to the perspiration gleaming on the man’s pale skin, slowly pooling into the divots of his neck, while actively avoiding falling from the treadmill and making a fool of himself.

Atsumu is comfortable enough with his sexuality to openly admit that he finds men appealing, some objectively attractive, but he certainly has a type, and Mr. tall, dark, and handsome definitely doesn’t fit the bill. Too tall, radiating far too much displeasure for Atsumu’s usual tastes, but this… well, it’s hardly fair.

There’s something so arresting about the contrast of his dark lineaments mounted on a marble complexion, the soft curl of his hair stark against his sharp features. Atsumu silently ponders if the moles on his arms, neck, and dotting his eyebrow extend the same courtesy to the rest of his frame, tucked behind the safety of his tight-fitting shirt. It’s so disarming that it makes him nauseous, and at the same time, Atsumu is struggling to look away, especially as he stares at a long bead of sweat roll down his neck until it ultimately disappears beneath the collar of his shirt.

Atsumu swallows.

It’s time to find a new machine. One that’s as far away from dark and mysterious as he can get.

\--x--

Atsumu only spends two minutes pretending he might use one of the ellipticals on the opposite side of the gym before finding himself stomping back over to the general vicinity. His fragile ego won’t let him hop back on a treadmill, for fear of the stranger catching on to him. So he’s only left with one choice, and that is to play up all the tools in his arsenal.

Atsumu may be an absolute fool on occasion, but he is certainly no idiot, especially where his personal aesthetics are involved. He knows he’s impartially attractive, has a long list of suitors to plead his case. He also knows which parts of him are the most appealing. Atsumu has never skipped leg day in his life to ensure it.

Atsumu is moving before he fully decides on what equipment to use, but feels confident in his choice as he steps up to the leg curl bench. He straddles the padding before laying flat on his stomach and grips the handlebars in front of him. He’s diagonal from the man’s field of vision, but it will be impossible for him to miss Atsumu in this pose with his legs strained and curling in the air behind him. Having once bribed Osamu to snag a few pictures at the gym for his dating profile, he has the proof to back up his assumption. It’s a surefire way to make the stranger take notice of the fact that yes, Atsumu was here and he too, is also very attractive.

Atsumu takes a moment to check his weight increment before carefully positioning his legs so that the roller falls just behind his ankles. When he’s satisfied that everything is in order and he can be seen with a simple turn of the man’s head, he takes a deep centering breath and begins his reps.

It doesn’t take long before he feels the slow burn creeping up his hamstrings. It’s calming in a way, something familiar in a sea of unusual uncertainty, something to anchor him to his purpose and keep the distracting hum in his mind at bay. The white noise of metal clanking on metal as weights fall to their resting position assists Atsumu in keeping on track, allowing no room for anything besides his driven purpose.

The rest of his set passes by without incident, only the barest sheen of sweat coating his skin as he readjusts on the bench. Atsumu swipes at his eyes using the sleeve of his shirt as a barrier from the dirt on skin, taking the opportunity to peek towards the treadmills.

His jaw falls slack as the stranger brings a water bottle up from its place in the cupholder before wrapping his lips around the spout as he continues running. A soft, “ _ Oh,’’ _ falls from Atsumu’s lips unintentionally as his eyes track a stray droplet that slips from a corner of the man’s mouth.

He’s never wanted to be a liquid so bad in his life.

Shaking his head to clear the wayward thoughts from his mind, Atsumu adjusts himself on the seat so that his legs curl further up on the bar, his back arching and torso hovering mid pushup. He’s the one who is supposed to be seducing, not the other way around. He won’t get it twisted again.

His arms strain with the added weight of holding his upper body up and away from the padding, but with the way his biceps poke out of the sleeves of his t-shirt, he’s markedly okay with the discomfort. Atsumu can feel his calf muscles retracting as he points his toes and curls his legs behind him.

It’s only now that Atsumu begins to regret skipping his usual stretching habits in favor of parading his legs in front of a complete stranger that may or may not ever notice his existence. He’s too invested to turn back now though, and he’s certainly not going to stop mid-set just to rest his aching muscles, so Atsumu pushes through.

The familiar clang of the weight falling home drags Atsumu’s attention back to reality. Atsumu huffs a breath, letting his weight fall back on the bench padding, and glares at the equipment like it may be at fault for his failures.

When he’s finally able to sit up without wanting to slump back down Atsumu casts a glance over his shoulder. Still, the stranger has absolutely no reaction to Atsumu’s godlike legs. Resentment is a bitter pill to swallow, but Atsumu is all too accustomed to the taste. While it's annoying, of course, Atsumu hasn’t anticipated this man’s attention would be so difficult to garner, but he doesn’t have the time to bemoan his losses, always pushing forward and through. It’s a force of habit and not one given up so easily, especially in the face of an imminent defeat staring him in the face. Atsumu will always be petty enough to attempt to achieve the unachievable.

It’s with this thought in mind that he steps in front of the weight rack.

If this doesn’t work then nothing will and Atsumu should just count his losses and let it go.

Like hell he’ll let that happen, though.

Atsumu takes his spot in front of the mirrors lining the wall, carding his vision over all the offered cast plates before grabbing a few and adding them onto the ends of the bar. It takes everything in him to keep from checking over his shoulder. 

He grips the bar just shy of being parallel with his knees before dropping into a deadlift position. Atsumu quickly pulls it up and catches it onto his chest. It’s been a while since he’s messed with barbell squats, often preferring any other number of methods to work out the same muscles, but his muscle memory kicks in and he’s dropping three times in succession to reacquaint himself with the process.

When he’s straightened again, Atsumu pushes the bar overhead before letting the weight rest comfortably on his shoulders. He holds it there for a moment, knuckles turning white with how harshly he’s gripping the steel in his hands. And then he’s dropping down again, bending his knees with the pressure on his back, summoning the burn back in his thighs.

He goes through this process a few more times, adding weight with each additional set until he’s slightly over his usual limit. It’s on his third additional weight increment that things take a turn for the worse.

Atsumu has the bar centered on his shoulders, attempts to make his arms stop shaking through sheer will, but sighs as the movements do not cease. He feels the strain all over now, heat licking up and tearing through his limbs. He should have probably, definitely, maybe called it quits by now, but as he tilts his head forward on his dissent, his eyes meet that of the stranger staring back at his reflection.

Atsumu startles enough that the balance of the bar is thrown off-center, and his first thought as he feels himself shifting with it, is how humiliated he’s going to be when he’s carted off in a stretcher instead of carried in the toned arms he wants to be.

Atsumu takes a deep breath, moving the bar on his back until it’s righted once more.

Any interest Atsumu has accumulated must have dissipated the second he almost dropped the weight from his back and of course this would happen when he finally,  _ finally _ got the attention he’s been seeking all afternoon. He vows to complete his sets as penance, hoping against all odds that the man will still be watching him when he checks again. He doesn’t dare scope it out prior to finishing his reps for fear of the same incident humiliating him all over again.

But by the time Atsumu is dropping the weight with a groan, not only is the stranger not admiring him, he’s nowhere to be found. He must have vacated his spot after discovering the loser that can’t even do a squat without toppling over.

Atsumu slams the cast plates back in their spot on the rack after wiping them down and stalks off to the showers.

\--x--

Atsumu exits the gym with his head hanging low between his shoulders, utterly defeated. He doesn’t strike out a lot, but when he does, the weight of it lingers with him for a while, an utter blow to his self-esteem and overall morale.

For a moment in the showers post-workout, Atsumu considers jerking off to relieve some of his frustrations, especially remembering what he’s returning home to. If he comes home wound tight enough and Osamu pushes the wrong button, he’s certain his precarious dam would break, and release a maelstrom of words and actions that he would regret come morning. 

It isn’t until Atsumu has reached the parking lot and hears footsteps trailing behind him, that he realizes he’s being followed. He slows his pace and chances a glance over his shoulder, only to find a profile he’s spent the better part of the afternoon staring at and a mop of dark hair atop it. 

Atsumu does a double-take, tripping over his own feet before righting himself and stopping altogether.

There’s no way in hell he’s seeing things correctly, but no matter how many times he blinks, the hot stranger from the treadmill still stands a few feet behind him, eyebrow raised expectantly. Or maybe in irritation. Perhaps both. Atsumu can’t tell.

“So, are we doing this?” he asks when Atsumu just stands there openly gaping at him. Atsumu can’t even wrap his head around the fact that he’s speaking to him, let alone any meaning behind his words.

“Wha-huh? Whadda ya…” Atsumu clears his throat. Tries again. “Doing what?”

The man rolls his eyes as though Atsumu is the absurd one in this exchange. Atsumu hates how it only furthers his attraction to the stupidly perfect stranger. 

“You were watching me so hard you almost dropped a weight on your foot. I think you know which ‘what’ I’m referring to,” he deadpans. Atsumu is still so baffled that it takes him a minute to realize what, exactly, the man is implying.

“W-what?! I wasn’t starin’ at ya!” A blush spreads stark against Atsumu’s cheeks, his voice surfacing a lot more pitchy than he’d prefer.

“As if you could be any more obvious,” he scoffs in response, narrowing his eyes.

“Listen here. I was  _ not  _ starin’ at ya. I don’t know who you think you are but-“

“My mistake,” the man says flatly, cutting Atsumu off and turning abruptly, as though he is truly unaffected by the outcome of their present situation. “Guess I’ll be going then.”

Atsumu takes all of one second staring at his retreating form while internally debating the merits of letting his ego take one more hit for the day for the sake of a chance at getting to know the stranger more intimately.

He finds the rewards are well worth the risk.

“No, wait!” Atsumu cringes at the needy way his voice carries.

The man takes pity on him, stopping in his tracks but not turning to face him. Atsumu watches him warily, afraid any sudden words or movement might scare him off before they even have a chance to get this whole thing going.

But Atsumu breathes a sigh of relief when the man calls out over his shoulder, “Are you coming?”

\--x--

Atsumu spends the entire car ride in an internal panic, sweaty palms pressed together in his lap. He’s remembering all of the speeches regarding stranger danger he’d gotten in middle school and suddenly thinks that maybe getting into this man’s car with no regard for where they might be going might not have been his brightest idea.

In his defense, he isn’t exactly in his right mind at the moment. One look at his stupidly perfect profile and Atsumu’s logical thinking skills melted right out of his skull. He’d spent an hour flexing his thighs in an attempt to garner the stranger’s attention, for fuck’s sake. What part of that said anything about intelligence?

So while yes, he probably should have taken his own car in case something took a turn for the worst, Atsumu can’t really be blamed for the oversight.

In fact, the more Atsumu considers it, the more he realizes, ‘ _ Are we doing this? _ ’ is rather vague and could have meant any number of things. Perhaps he was merely asking if they were going to flee the country together? Perhaps he was inquiring about the state of his organs and if he might be able to harvest them for a nice sum on the black market? What if instead of the sexual tension Atsumu has been feeling, this stranger felt nothing but hatred at his weird display and wants to hurt him in retribution for his foolery.

Atsumu wouldn’t know. The man remains frustratingly unreadable, and it makes Atsumu fidget in his leather pleated seat. Of course, there is a part of Atsumu (the larger part, apparently) that will follow this man to the ends of the Earth to divulge whatever mysteries lay beyond his steel facade.

“Sakusa,” the man says, jarring Atsumu’s spiraling thoughts to a halt. “Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

His voice is soft and for a moment Atsumu questions whether he was even meant to speak aloud, until there is an expectant tick in the other’s eyebrow.

“Huh?” Atsumu responds hazily.

“Are you always so intelligent?” He retorts sardonically. Atsumu only blinks at him, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy while navigating murky waters.

He can’t be totally sure because of the mask covering his face, but Atsumu suspects he might see the telltale signs of an actual smile behind it, something lighting his face to a dangerous level of cuteness.

_ Oh no. _

Atsumu is still dazedly staring at him when he clarifies with, “It’s my name.”

Yikes. Atsumu definitely should have picked up on that, as most normal and sane people would, but everything about this situation was neither sane nor normal. He attempts to cover his embarrassment by returning the sentiment.

“Atsumu.” 

Silence ensues for a beat, and then, “Is there a family name that might go with that?”

Atsumu narrows his eyes at Sakusa suspiciously, but realizes it's a futile attempt as Sakusa hasn’t once looked away from the road outside of the windshield.

“Miya,” he ends up admitting. “But call me Atsumu. My twin and I have always gone by our first names, s’ a little weird when people call me Miya.”

Sakusa blinks, the only sign of surprise he’s willing to show. Atsumu isn’t sure if it has more to do with having a twin or from a total stranger offering up information so freely, but he doesn’t have time to question it before Sakusa is speaking again.

“Alright, then. My apartment is only a bit further up the road.” Then, he pauses as if deliberating something before snarking, “Shouldn’t be long now,  _ Miya _ .”

Atsumu knows Sakusa is just attempting to rile him up, but he still glares furiously when his request goes unrespected, before considering how he can return in kind. A grin stretches his face at the endless possibilities, and okay, yes, perhaps pissing off the stranger whose mercy he was currently under isn’t his best idea, but Atsumu has already come to terms with his lack of competency when in the same vicinity as Sakusa Kiyoomi.

He whistles between his teeth before replying, “ _ Omi-kun _ , I had no idea ya lived in such a swanky end of town.” Atsumu is almost giddy over the tightening of his hands around the steering wheel and the tick of his eyebrow at the nickname. “You’ll have to show me around sometime.”

And then Sakusa is mumbling something that sounds a lot like  _ I’m gonna kill him _ , and Atsumu wonders if he should start fearing for his safety again.

\--x—

Atsumu has the exact span of time it takes him to remove his shoes at the door and step into Sakusa’s very tastefully decorated living room before he’s being pushed into the wall. For a moment he thinks  _ Osamu, it’s finally happening. My stupidity is going to get me killed. You were right all along and I won’t ever have to admit it to you face to face, so who’s the real winner, here?  _ before soft lips are meeting his chapped ones.

_ Oh fuck _ , he thinks.  _ I really am the winner. _

It takes all of another second for Atsumu’s mind to fully register what’s happening before he’s threading his fingers through the hairs above Sakusa’s nape and pulling him in more closely. Their mouths are a rough clash of tongues and teeth, more fervent than Atsumu originally thinks capable of the man with such a small array of facial expressions at his disposal.

There’s a trail of saliva still connecting their lips that Atsumu half expects Sakusa to cringe at when they part, but he only sucks in a sharp breath, eyes hooded slightly. Atsumu can only imagine the expression on his face, something between bewilderment and arousal. One hand remains in the mop of Sakusa’s hair, but the other has snuck its way to grab at Sakusa’s hip. They both look at it in unison as if only just now noticing, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room around them.

One charged moment they are staring at each other again, tension poised and ready to burst. The next Sakusa is launching himself back at Atsumu, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss. Sakusa flexes his hips into Atsumu, their half-hard cocks grazing slightly between fabrics, but he can feel when Sakusa narrows in on the action.

“Bed. Now,” Sakusa demands between kisses.

“Yeah, okay,” Atsumu agrees on an exhale, allowing Sakusa to take his hand and basically pull him the whole way to what is presumably his bedroom. His limbs feel leaden after pushing himself hard enough at the gym that a total stranger felt obligated to bring him home. There’s a deep-seeded exhaustion in the marrow of his bones, and while Atsumu wants more than anything to fuck Sakusa into the mattress, he can’t imagine a muscle cramp mid-thrust will be very sexy.

“I, uh…” Atsumu stammers hesitantly. Sakusa’s path doesn’t waver and there’s not a single word of acknowledgement murmured until they’re crossing the threshold of his room.

And even then, his only response is, “Yes?” before taking a seat at the edge of his bed, lips pursed in an unreadable line. Atsumu briefly wonders if there’s any sexy way to tell the stranger you’re about to bone that you need to stretch first.

Atsumu sighs in resignation.

“Ya have to promise not to be weird about it, ‘kay?” Atsumu warns, biting his kiss swollen bottom lip.

Sakusa looks him over, and it’s not until his gaze lingers on his pants that Atsumu remembers his half-hard cock, too busy contemplating the merits of admitting to his earlier faults. Their eyes meet again and Sakusa cocks an eyebrow, half expectant and half impatient, Atsumu thinks, and he can’t help but consider if perhaps the man is a little easier to read than he originally thought.

“I... I gotta stretch first,” Atsumu admits, eyes downcast to the floor. He swipes a hand through his mussed hair nervously and has the sudden urge to hightail it out of Sakusa’s apartment.

He doesn’t, but it’s a very near thing.

When Sakusa only fixes him with a blank gaze, Atsumu clears his throat and tries again, “I uh, didn’t really limber up enough before my workout so I’m a little sore.”

“How unfortunate,” Sakusa hums, amusement lilting his tone. “Take off your clothes.”

A rather elegant, “Huh?” is the only response Atsumu can muster. “Yer not gonna let me stretch?”

“Well, you’re an adult, and I’m pretty sure that means you can do whatever the hell you want,” he states blandly, only continuing when he notices Atsumu’s bafflement remains, “Why would I stop you from stretching?”

“Well, ya told me to take my clothes off.” It’s not a question, but Atsumu does expect some semblance of an answer anyways.

“Right. And?”

Bastard.

“Annnd,” Atsumu replies, dragging all of the syllables in a mocking tone. “If yer demanding my clothes, how am I supposta stretch?”

“Oh,” Sakusa says as if only now understanding Atsumu’s not-question. “I want you to stretch naked.”

It takes a second for the words to really sink in, for Atsumu to realize what this total stranger is asking of him. To be put in the most vulnerable of positions, with no cover whatsoever, isn’t exactly something Atsumu looks forward to fulfilling, but the room suddenly feels a little hotter than it did before. There’s something in Atsumu that wants to deny the half demand, but there’s an even larger part of himself that will be happy to hand over a kidney if it meant finally seeing what Sakusa looks like fully nude.

Atsumu offers no more argument, standing and accepting his fate even if it means suffering through some light discomfort first. Sakusa repositions himself on the bed, stacking pillows behind him before laying back against them, hands folded on his torso. Atsumu considers grumbling his offense, but decides to bite his tongue as Sakusa looks at him with eyes so hungry, he fears he may be devoured with one wrong move.

As if in a trance, Atsumu slowly slides his sweat pants down his thighs, all the way to his ankles, watching Sakusa closely enough to witness a heated look cross his expression. A pink tongue darts out to wet soft lips when the majority of his legs are revealed and Atsumu finds it far more likely now than ever that his little showcase at the gym was not done in vain.

_ Oh, wow. It worked _ .

The validation he feels coursing through his bloodstream is the only motivation he needs to slowly slip the white cotton fabric over his shoulders. Sakusa’s exhale sounds remarkably pained, resonating from somewhere deep in his chest as Atsumu’s shirt falls through his fingers onto the floor below.

Clad only in patterned boxer briefs, Atsumu gives one last lingering look at Sakusa’s face, thumbs hovering between the elastic and his warm skin beneath the waistband. Sakusa’s weight has shifted in the time he isn’t looking but from this angle, Atsumu can only see one of Sakusa’s hands white-knuckling the sheets in what appears to be a massive feat in restraint. Without giving himself any room to reconsider, Atsumu tugs his underwear down until it pools at his ankles.

Atsumu bites his lip hard enough he thinks it may draw blood, but he’s come this far and there is no use in backing down now. He kicks his pile of clothes off to the side, a little too self-conscious to chance a peak at Sakusa.

Atsumu is confident in the fact that he’s attractive, more than comfortable in his own skin, but it isn’t every day that he spends parading nude in front of someone he barely knows. It’s enough to set anyone on edge. But by the time he finally comes to terms with the situation at hand and looks back to Sakusa, he feels infinitely better.

His expression has morphed into one of unadulterated lust, pupils blown wide in the unforgiving light. Sakusa is perched further forward than the last time Atsumu checked on him, his pillows long forgotten in their pile behind him, and whether it’s for a better view or to hide the evidence of how badly his little striptease has affected him, Atsumu isn’t sure.

Doesn’t really care either.

Feeling more stable than he has the entire time spent in company with Sakusa, Atsumu strolls back over to the area rug surrounding Sakusa’s bed with a smug smile planted firmly on his face. He slowly lowers himself to the floor, sure to accentuate all his best features as he adjusts on the plush carpet. Atsumu revels in the feeling of Sakusa’s eyes roaming every inch of his skin, refusing to shy away from his gaze with bravado now.

As casually as he possibly can, Atsumu begins reaching for his toes, thankful for the small mercy of sitting down on Sakusa’s rug. The tension in his muscles tightens roughly before giving way to something softer and more smoothing, but the weight of Sakusa’s gaze continues to burn.

Atsumu makes quick work of limbering up, careful to spend more time on the affected areas than the opposing muscle groups he completely ignored in favor of flexing his strong suits. Distracted with the process, he doesn’t realize Sakusa is looming over him until he’s only a few feet away. The bulge in his loose shorts is more pronounced now and Atsumu’s struggles to keep himself from bragging, because while he was more comfortable with the presence at his side, Atsumu is certain Sakusa will kick him out faster than he can say, _ Like what you see, Omi-Omi? _

“Are you done yet?” Sakusa’s voice sounds weirdly strained, as though he spent the afternoon shouting at some sports match, rather than ogling Atsumu at the gym.

Atsumu stands facing Sakusa, his back to the mattress. A grin comes unbidden to his face as he plants his hands proudly at his hips. Admittedly, he does feel more limber and confident after having the opportunity to work his sore muscles, he can deny the nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach.

“Ready whenever ya are, Omi,” Atsumu beams, eyes crinkling at the corners with an optimism he doesn’t feel. 

When he looks to Sakusa, the lingering display of heated lust has all but evacuated, in its place is a smug, knowing smile, and it’s the last thing Atsumu sees before he’s pushed back onto the bed behind him. He doesn’t stay down long, using the momentum of his bounce to shift to the edge until he’s latching onto Sakusa’s frame. Their lips meet somewhere in the middle, teeth clashing as they come together, until it evens out to something somehow both softer and sharper.

Atsumu feels hands on his back before he’s gently lowered onto the dark downy comforter, knees bent and feet planted at the edge of the mattress as Sakusa hovers over him. Once settled, Sakusa lays a trail of kisses from Atsumu’s lips to his navel, lingering around the tight muscles of his abdomen until they twitch violently under his ministrations and a smirk comes unbidden to his face.

They’re both painfully hard. Atsumu can feel the evidence of Sakusa’s arousal when it brushes his stomach, thighs, and his own erection, as Sakusa meanders down his body, lazy and wicked.

Sakusa’s breath ghosts over his cock and Atsumu thinks for a split second that he’s actually going to go in for the kill. Afraid he might actually come on the spot at the sight, Atsumu closes his eyes and silently regrets his choices of not beating off in the gym showers when he had the chance. Instead of the wet heat he expects to surround his dick, Sakusa’s warmth vanishes. 

Atsumu cracks an eye open only to find Sakusa settled between his legs and placing a small kiss to the side of his knee, a coy smile lighting his face. Before Atsumu can even catch up to what he’s doing so far away from his mouth, Sakusa is moving again.

He begins his reign of terror at Atsumu’s ankle, sucking fat open-mouthed kisses along his skin, all the way up his calves. Atsumu chokes back a whimper, watching the display with his lips parted and wondering who, exactly is this man? And why is it wrecking Atsumu so thoroughly just to observe when he pauses his antics and defers to running deft hands over the side of knees and down his shins, one soft fingertip trailing the other until they halt once more at Atsumu’s ankles?

Sakusa looks up from beneath his inky fringe, eyes heavy-lidded and so dark that Atsumu can’t tell the difference between iris and pupil. The air between them carries a measure of curiosity weighted with lust, and still, Atsumu can’t look away, hypnotized by the depth he finds staring back at him.

A smirk tilts Sakusa’s lips and Atsumu doesn’t have the time to question it before the grip around his ankle tightens and gravity is shifting. Sakusa pulls Atsumu so his feet are now touching the floor, laying with his back flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sakusa kneels on the floor between Atsumu’s outstretched legs, and for all his snark and gloomy demeanor, looks like a kid in a candy store with the hunger flashing dangerously in his eyes.

And then Sakusa’s mouth is on him once more, tongue running shamelessly over the pronounced muscles of his inner thighs, and Atsumu thinks he might die from the absurdity of it. This time, he can’t help the groan that slips from his lips when Sakusa changes tactics and begins sucking on the flesh and kneading his outer thighs instead, because  _ god, _ why does it feel like every nerve ending is on fire, his mind foggy, and his body boneless.

Sakusa’s hands are rough, harsh, and his strokes are unrelenting as though he’s trying to feel every individual piece of muscle and sinew. It might be painful were it not for the distracting plush kisses and nips Sakusa maintains on the inside flesh.

It’s long after Atsumu’s breathing becomes harsh between clenched teeth that Sakusa begins relenting. The grip on his thighs runs soothing patterns, the bruises he’s sucking shift into open-mouthed kisses again, but Atsumu still writhes on the bed, stars crowding his vision, as he tries to focus on the mop of curly black hair between his legs.

“ _ Shit _ ,” Atsumu pants. “This has gotta be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me in my entire life.”

There’s no sort of verbal confirmation that Sakusa has heard or registered the words that slip from his mouth unbidden, but Atsumu knows he has from the way his movements slow, tips of his ears turning pink. At least Sakusa has the grace not to mention it, as he carries on over increasingly sensitive skin, and Atsumu scrambles to cover his mouth to suppress a moan that will probably only serve to humiliate them both further.

Atsumu should be pissed that his legs are getting all the attention and wants to curse his stupid stunt of parading them at the gym, but still, it feels too fucking good to interfere.

But all of the thoughts eddy out of his head the instant Sakusa’s palm makes contact with his rock hard length, and he can’t help the noise that tears itself from his throat, especially as his antics at his thighs do not cease. His neglected cock is finally,  _ finally _ receiving some much-needed friction, and while it’s sloppy, it eases something that’s been mounting in Atsumu since their time at the gym.

“Omi,” Atsumu rasps, hand gripping a patch of Sakusa’s locks to alleviate the maelstrom of sensations all at once. “Yer clothes… wanna see ya.”

He can’t stand it. He wants it to stop.

He wants more.

But then Sakusa’s weight is lifted from his thighs so suddenly that Atsumu feels completely bereft without his warmth around him. His pitchy whine says as much and Sakusa only gives him an unimpressed look in return. He quiets a moment later when he realizes Sakusa’s intent.

“Don’t watch,” Sakusa demands, a blush kissing the planes of his cheekbones as his hands fiddle with the hem of his shirt, his brow pinches in frustration at Atsumu’s intent stare.

“For someone who watched me stretch naked and just sucked my thighs raw, yer awfully modest,” Atsumu retorts with a raised brow, still staring unabashedly at him.

“No, you’re just shameless,” Sakusa snaps back as though he hasn’t indeed left a trail of bruises that would be pretty difficult to explain come tomorrow, but that’s a problem for future Atsumu.

The shift from brazen, to prude, to angry makes Atsumu’s head spin, yet it’s oddly endearing to witness the whole spectrum of his emotions play out.

“Close your eyes,” Sakusa hisses and Atsumu does as he’s ordered on impulse.

Though he can’t see it, he does hear the drinkle of fabric sliding off Sakusa’s body and feels his cock twitch in response. To know what’s happening past his closed lids, just out of reach, it’s unbearable, Atsumu thinks, and in the same breath,  _ why is it so hot, then? _

Atsumu is confused when the faint sound of a drawer opening echoes in the room, but thinks better of questioning it until something hits the bed beside him.

_ Oh. _

Atsumu can probably guess the contents, given their current situation and all that has already occurred, but thinks better of pushing his luck, lest Sakusa throw him out on his very naked ass.

“Okay,” Sakusa says and every nerve ending in Atsumu’s body is raised to attention, but he hears the hesitation in Sakusa’s tone, so he doesn’t dare so much as breathe, let alone peek at what is undoubtedly a very naked, painfully beautiful body in front of him. He deserves an award or something, especially after spending an entire afternoon chasing this very moment. “You can… look.”

And then Atsumu’s eyes are open and Sakusa’s clothes are finally, blessedly off, and his body is bare before him. Atsumu thinks he might lose his mind completely because he was right about the moles and how they litter Sakusa’s whole frame. He suddenly has the desire to kiss each and every one of them, lavishing Sakusa’s body in the same attention that Atsumu had endured. Looking at Sakusa though, Atsumu thinks the hunger in his eyes begs to differ.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Atsumu groans, eyes trailing the open planes of Sakusa’s body, drinking in the smooth, marbled skin until his head goes a little fuzzy, It’s an infinite amount of time that passes as they each drink in the other greedily. The tension in the air coils low, poised and ready to spring, growing thicker and heavier with each passing moment.

Atsumu might whimper or maybe Sakusa just  _ knows _ from the look reflecting in Atsumu’s own eyes, but before he knows what’s happening, Sakusa is on him. They’re kissing and Atsumu wants to scream, at how damn sweet he tastes as it knocks the breath from his lungs. His entire being crumbles when Sakusa’s tongue laps into his mouth. Now that they’re close again, Atsumu can smell his woodsy aftershave, some kind of sandalwood or amber that reminds him of crisp fall afternoons. It’s unexpectedly warm coming from someone so outwardly cold.

Atsumu doesn’t get to linger on the complexities and layers of Sakusa for very long before hands are rummaging through his hair, pulling the strands in random directions, and Atsumu just knows it’s going to be untamable until he makes his way to the shower. He finds he doesn’t have the capacity to care as Sakusa shifts his weight until he’s straddling Atsumu’s hips and licking into his mouth as though he needs it, his cock bobbing and brushing against the muscles of Atsumu’s stomach.

“ _ Fuck _ \- god, yer so hot, Omi Omi, I-” Atsumu stutters out when they part for a breath. Sakusa smirks like the asshole that he is, but Atsumu doesn’t miss the flush spread against his cheekbones that scream he’s enjoying this just as much. Atsumu turns his head to hide from that all-knowing stare, and finds himself face to face with a bottle of lube and a roll of condoms.

Ah, then he wasn’t being presumptuous, huh? It’s only after a mental pat on the back that it dawns on Atsumu just how far Sakusa is planning on taking this. Condoms meant that penetration of some kind is going down, and even though Sakusa is obviously a weirdo, he doesn’t think he’ll need a whole roll of condoms just for his fingers.

But then that would mean… who was gonna… Were they really just not gonna talk about it? Atsumu knows where he stands when it comes to fucking or being fucked, but Sakusa is only just revealing a whole new depth to his level of depravity and Atsumu can’t be certain how he felt about the matter.

If he is being honest, though, it doesn’t matter one way or the other. But still. He wants more than anything to break that cold exterior and see what else may lie beneath. With no regard to Atsumu’s internal panic, Sakusa mouths at his collar bones absentmindedly until Atsumu can no longer handle the weight of his realization.

“Please let me fuck ya. I really _really_ wanna fuck ya, Omi. Need to know what you feel like.” He feels an exhale of hot air against the column of his throat. “Wanna be inside you _so_ _baaad_.”

Atsumu’s whining ceases, breath hitching in his throat when Sakusa looks up at him, pupils blown wide. His answer isn’t verbal, only a slight nod of his head, but the fire in his eyes speaks volumes on the subject of who would top.

“Okay,” he agrees in a low voice, barely above a whisper, but it makes Atsumu’s throat clench at how provocative a simple word can be, how it ignites him from the inside out.

Atsumu springs up, arms wrapping around Sakusa’s neck to pull him close before rejoining their mouths in a fevered, sloppy kiss. Using the temporary leverage of having Sakusa in his hold, Atsumu pulls him down until he’s basically dead weight atop him, melting into his embrace. Atsumu stays like that for a moment, utterly lost and adrift in the sea of emotions swelling in his chest, confusing but not unwelcome.

Atsumu breaks the trance by flipping Sakusa onto his back despite his squawk of protest. Their erections brush again, both of them standing large and proud from their heated liplock, and Sakusa cries out from the contact. Atsumu only swears, eyeing Sakusa’s lithe form beneath him, both soft and hard in all the right places.

“Wanna play Omi. I’m tired of waitin’,” Atsumu says by way of explanation, a smarmy grin tilting his lips. “Roll onto your stomach.”

To Sakusa’s credit, he only rolls his eyes once before doing as he’s told. Atsumu wastes no time, turning his body to sit on the back of Sakusa’s thighs, careful to distribute his weight so he’s not pushing Sakusa’s swollen dick too far into the mattress. The smooth marble expanse of his skin, flush and a little feverish in spots, almost snaps the leash on Atsumu’s self-control, but he attempts to reign it in by palming Sakusa’s ass between both of his hands.

Sakusa’s whimper is almost too pathetic to be believable, but when Atsumu trails his gaze to Sakusa’s face he finds a lidded stare and a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. The damn sweat that had started this whole excursion.

Not that Atsumu is complaining.

Atsumu gives his ass another squeeze before he’s leaning his chest against Sakusa’s back and whispering in his ear, “Ya like the way I touch you, Omi-Omi?”

And while Atsumu loves the way his breath fans Sakusa’s curls, he enjoys Sakusa’s answering moan all the more.

“Didn’t think you’d be so responsive.” Atsumu trails his tongue down the shell of his ear, careful to nip at his lobe. “Who woulda thought ya could be so… unrestrained.”

“ _ Atsumu _ ,” Sakusa gasps. Atsumu’s eyes widen before locking on to the desperate breaths falling from his lips, feeling the rise and fall of his frame. He’s snapped out of his trance as Sakusa continues, “Do you ever  _ shut up _ ? Just fuck me, already.”

And then as if to accentuate his point, Sakusa flexes his hips, almost bucking Atsumu from his back in the process.

“Coward,” Sakusa huffs into his pillow.

_ Savage _ , Atsumu thinks with a grin as he grabs the wayward bottle of lube from the sheets. This Sakusa, panting and desperate beneath him, is not the same closed-off entity he’d met at the gym. No, he’s a new breed entirely and Atsumu isn’t sure which is the real him or if both parts make up one Sakusa Kiyoomi, but he certainly wants to find out.

“Ready?” Atsumu asks as he warms the lube between his fingers.

And though Sakusa looks totally wrecked already, he still finds the strength to reply, “I thought we already established this.”

And because Atsumu is petty, he slides the tip of his pointer finger in with no warning. Sakusa bites back a moan, and Atsumu relishes in how the hole pulsates around him, a predatory sound unfurling from somewhere deep in his chest.

“More,” Sakusa demands, and who is Atsumu to deny him? When his knuckle meets little resistance, Atsumu slides the rest of his finger in.

With Sakusa pinned down beneath his thighs, all he can do is take the gentle slide of his finger as Atsumu leisurely sets the pace. He can feel Sakusa twitching beneath him, an attempt to stir up some type of friction for his poor neglected cock, so Atsumu squeezes his thighs in warning, much to Sakusa’s apparent delight as his breathing becomes more labored and his body tenses below him.

“Ya really have a thing for my thighs, huh?” And it’s not until the words are out of his mouth that he even realizes he’s speaking out loud. “I’ll have to remember that next time. I’ll make it so good for you, baby,” Atsumu babbles before he can stop himself. He registers his mistake at assuming there would be a next time, so before Sakusa can panic or comment, Atsumu is sliding in the full length of another finger.

Atsumu grazes the silken heat of his walls, dragging his calluses over sensitive insides before splitting his fingers to scissor him wider. Sakusa is writhing again, clenching against him, and while he’s been here before, two fingers deep in some dude’s asshole, it’s never felt quite this good before. Atsumu sits up on his knees and leans over to press a kiss beneath Sakusa’s ear who shudders at the sensation.

“Yer taking it so well, Omi-Omi. Doin’ such a good job.”

Atsumu speeds up his tempo, pushing in harder and deeper, pulling inhuman noises from somewhere deep in his throat.  _ God _ , it’s so unbearably hot that Atsumu is finding himself with the tip of a third finger pushing into the ring, drawing a tight gasp from Sakusa’s lips that causes Atsumu to halt his trajectory.

“No,” Sakusa whines, sensing Atsumu’s hesitation. “ _ Please _ keep going.”

“So ya  _ do _ have manners?” Atsumu taunts before pulling both of his fingers from Sakusa’s hole. Sakusa only has time to beat a fist against the soft bedding twice, before Atsumu is flipping the man back onto his back. “Wanna make sure I see you.”

Sakusa groans, throwing a hand over his eyes as a blush creeps across his face. Finally fishing the lube from the sheets, Atsumu chuckles darkly at his dramatic display before pouring the bottle directly between the line of Sakusa’s ass. He winces, the chill of the unwarmed lube a contrast to the steadily increasing heat coursing through his veins.

From this vantage point and with Sakusa’s intense gaze hidden away, Atsumu finally gets a good look at Sakusa’s swollen cock and finds himself wanting to run his tongue over the broad head.

“Ya know, Omi-Omi, yer pretty cute when ya wanna be,” he says instead, causing Sakusa to raise his arm and peek at him when Atsumu’s fingers finally slide back in smoothly.

“Shut up!” Sakusa repeats, hands moving from his face altogether before fisting in the sheets as Atsumu continues to fuck him with his fingers. “I hate you so much.”

At this, Atsumu only raises a brow before lowering his mouth to blow hot breath against Sakusa’s leaking dick. Sakusa squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back against the pillows, his dark curls fanning out around him in some kind of twisted halo.

Satisfied that his response is approval enough, Atsumu swipes his tongue along the protruding vein, delighting in how smooth and clean the skin is. Sakusa relinquishes his hold on the sheets, only for Atsumu’s hair to become his new stronghold.

The speed of his fingers pumping in and out of Sakusa’s hole increases as Atsumu takes him to the hilt with his mouth, his cock pressed against the back of his throat. Blow jobs aren’t something Atsumu usually enjoys unless he’s on the receiving end, but witnessing Sakusa’s completely fucked out look is well worth the price he has to pay. In all honesty, he finds himself almost fond of the way Sakusa’s dick slides in and out of his throat.

“I- Atsumu,” Sakusa pants. “I’m going to come if you keep that up.” Atsumu only responds with a hum around his fully enveloped length, fucking him deeper with his fingers, even when Sakusa begs. “ _ Shit. _ ” The grip in his hair tightens, a silent warning. “I’m not joking. Atsumu, I-  _ Ah _ . I’m going to come.”

Sakusa’s release barrels through him not a moment after the final warning is leaving his mouth. Atsumu tightens his lips, swallowing as much as he can as Sakusa’s cock spurts down his throat. When the last of Sakusa’s hip stutters die down, Atsumu pulls off with a loud pop that echoes in the room around them.

“Ready to have yer world rocked?” Atsumu grins, perhaps a little too smugly. Sakusa, to his credit, seems a bit tamer after his initial release, groaning at his antics in favor of swatting at him.

“If you promise to never say that again,” Sakusa snaps from his spot where he’s melted into the pillows, though it lacks its usual bite.

Atsumu makes no comment, unusually serious and too preoccupied with thoughts of how many times he can make Sakusa come before he’s a sobbing mess to bother with underhanded jabs. He hoists Sakusa’s limp legs to rest around his waist before lining his cock up to Sakusa’s entrance.

“Are ya ready, Omi?” Atsumu repeats steadily, voice shockingly absent of all the nerves he’s truly feeling. The whimper that slips from Sakusa’s throat is almost cute enough to sidetrack Atsumu, but there are a few other sounds he’s more interested to hear spilling from Sakusa’s lips. 

It evolves into a full-blown whine when the tip of Atsumu’s dick pushes through the ring of his hole. It’s tight. Tight enough that Atsumu stills and takes a moment to sweep his gaze across Sakusa’s face. His features are pinched tight, somewhere between pleasure and pain, a soft string of curses falling from his lips as his head tips back further into the pillows.

“Do ya…” Sakusa’s hole clenches tighter around his length. Atsumu clears his throat and tries again, “Are ya okay?”

Sakusa’s eyes snap open as he levels Atsumu’s gaze. There is a myriad of emotions flashing through his features and Atsumu isn’t even sure where to begin picking them apart.

“No,” Sakusa answers. “Keep going.”

Atsumu takes a deep, centering breath that only pushes him slightly further into Sakusa and immediately still in his panic, despite Sakusa’s demand.

“Come on, Atsumu. Please, just _please-_ _ah_! need you.” Sakusa cuts off. There’s a desperation in his tone that shakes Atsumu to his core. He doesn’t want to move. He’s barely cleared the tip and Sakusa already feels almost painfully tight around him. Atsumu can only imagine how he must be fairing, and yet here he is, begging for more.

“Are ya sure?” Atsumu asks, readjusting to put his full weight on one arm, while the other hand pushes Sakusa’s hair back from his forehead. His skin is so pale, the flush blotchy and warm where it rises on his skin, proof of where Atsumu has been and all the places he is yet to go. “I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“ _ Please _ ,” he repeats, a needy breath falling from his lips.

Hesitant, Atsumu swallows before pushing in a little further. His cock glides in easier this time and his vision goes slightly hazy around the edges. They groan in unison, Sakusa’s equal measures of surprise and elation, Atsumu’s one of full-on ecstasy. His core twitches, the need to flex, to move, to do anything to assist in chasing the high he’s been teetering on since Sakusa first laid his mouth on Atsumu. He tamps down the urge and chides himself for rushing, resisting the primal longing through sheer will.

“Ya okay?” Atsumu croaks hoarsely, running a thumb along Sakusa’s jaw. Sakusa’s shoulders shake as he shudders weakly, brow pinching with the added pressure. Has he gone too far? Pushed past Sakusa’s limits to a point of no return? The thought fills him with dread.

“I’m fine,” Sakusa finally says, voice also markedly weak. “You’re just  _ ah- _ so big, Tsumu.”

_ Fuck _ . Sakusa’s words travel straight to Atsumu’s already throbbing cock.

“Do ya wanna stop? It’s okay if ya do. It’s no fun if ya ain’t enjoying it too.” Atsumu is certain he’ll have blue balls for the rest of his life if they stop now, but he means the sentiment regardless.

Sakusa manages to shake his head, curls shifting from side-to-side. The look on his face shows no room for argument, eyes dark and foreboding.

“Wreck me,” he demands.

Atsumu’s breath hitches in his throat. How can the man that won’t undress in front of him be the same man that utters words designed specifically to destroy him? The words themselves aren’t necessarily foul, but with the delivery of which they are given, Atsumu can’t help but be affected by them.

“Fuck, Omi,” Atsumu grumbles. “Yer gonna have to warn me before ya say somethin’ like that next time. Yer liable to give me a heart attack.”

“Just. Ah,” Sakusa stutters out before emitting a high pitched whine. “Damnit, Miya. Quit teasing me.”

“Back to Miya now, huh?” Atsumu questions before chuckling darkly and sliding in even further, not quite bottoming out, but far enough to make Sakusa cry out beneath him. He can only grit his teeth against the onslaught of arousal brought upon from the traction of Sakusa’s hole clenching around his length.

Atsumu sits up, wrapping Sakusa’s legs tighter around his waist before pushing all the way in to the hilt.

“Fuck, oh my god,” Sakusa moans, back bowing off the mattress, rocking his hips up weakly. “So full, Tsumu.”

Though previously enraptured with thoughts of fucking Sakusa until there are tears streaming down his face, Atsumu is no longer so sure he’ll make it that far. Atsumu can’t recall a single time in his life where sanity and logic are meaningless to him, but now with a dazed expression and a tight,  _ tight _ heat wrapped around his cock, he feels totally brainless.

He takes a deep breath, allowing a few moments to pass to let them both get accustomed to the fit, and reaches down to distract himself by pressing his mouth onto Sakusa’s soft, plush lips. Sakusa sighs into his mouth, opening for him after Atsumu swipes a tongue along his lower lip.

The kiss ignites an ardent need, hands running across smooth skin, teeth clicking together sloppily, and Atsumu  _ burns _ . Atsumu flexes his hips impulsively, the friction causing Sakusa to wince before Atsumu stills again.

“Want your cock so fast and hard,” he breathes desperately against Atsumu’s lips and it makes his dick twitch where it’s buried inside of Sakusa. “So big, though. It hurts.”

“I know, baby,” Atsumu hums, carding his fingers through the Sakusa’s mop of curls in what he hopes is a comforting and welcome gesture. “We can take it as slow as we need to.”

Sakusa groans, wrapping a hand around the back of Atsumu’s neck and pulling him back to his mouth. Atsumu’s heart thuds in his chest, heat mounting higher and higher inside his chest, cresting to something unbearable when Sakusa starts to slowly grind his hips.

“Don’t want it slow.” Sakusa pouts when they part, continuing to undulate his body beneath Atsumu. “Thought I already told you. Want me to say it again?”

The petty part of Atsumu wants to play dumb, listen as Sakusa parrots words that make him break apart and build back up again. But another part, the larger, harder part, wants to fuck Sakusa into oblivion like he’s been asking.

Atsumu doesn’t hesitate this time as he sits back on his knees and hooks Sakusa’s calf over a shoulder, the new position sinking his cock even deeper into his sopping hole, punching a moan from somewhere deep in Atsumu’s chest.

Atsumu  _ finally _ starts moving with vigor, pumping his cock in and out of Sakusa deftly. When Atsumu looks down at Sakusa, his mouth is parted, eyes rolled to the back of his head, and fuck if that doesn’t make Atsumu positively weak. It’s obscene.

“Needy for my cock, baby?” Atsumu coos, pounding into Sakusa’s hole as the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes against the sound of breathless moans and weighted breathing. Atsumu nips Sakusa’s calf at the same time he pushes in more forcefully, and he feels Sakusa shudder beneath him. 

“Yes!” Sakusa sobs, head tilted to the ceiling as he cries out. Tears are falling from the corner of Sakusa’s eyes, and Atsumu can’t help but trace his tongues over one of the tracks, the taste of salt lingering on his tongue. “ _ Ah _ \- fuck. So full. Love the way you ruin me.”

And again Atsumu asks himself,  _ who is this man? _ Only this time, it's followed with  _ and where has he been all my life? _

The harder he thrusts, the more Sakusa’s legs shake around him. He’s close and Atsumu doesn’t know if Sakusa will be able to continue after coming a second time, but  _ god _ does Atsumu still want to try. His stamina has somehow pulled through him thus far, after enduring the absolute temptation of spilling his come into the condom several times now. It’s addicting, prying these sighs and moans from Sakusa’s throat, softening his usually guarded expression.

“ _ Tsumu _ .” A deep shuddering breath punches out from his chest. “Gonna… I- oh  _ god _ . I’m going to come again.”

“S’okay baby, I’ve got you,” Atsumu reassures softly and his words are Sakusa’s undoing.

Sakusa’s dick twitches, short spurts of white coating the pale skin stretching his abs as he moans recklessly into the air. His eyes fall shut, chest rising and falling with every panted breath. Atsumu wants to spend every free moment for the rest of his life summoning the look that currently paints Sakusa’s face. The imagine will be burned into the back of Atsumu’s retinas for as long as he lives. He’s sure of it.

Atsumu chases Sakusa’s orgasm with gentle kisses fluttering over his jaw, stilling to give the other a moment to rest before they start back up again. Atsumu is still hard, Sakusa’s hole clenching with every twitch of Atsumu’s throbbing dick, a tight fit even after stretching him out. Multiple times. In multiple ways.

Atsumu is aware of his dick size being above average. What he is not prepared for, however, was just how whiny and reckless it makes Sakusa. It’s heady, igniting every nerve in Atsumu’s body until he’s nothing more than a live wire, ready to blow at any moment.

Ever so slowly, Atsumu pulls out. He groans as he witnesses Sakusa’s hole clenches around the missing length.

“Fuck, Omi,” he whines, falling to the mattress on Sakusa’s side, jostling the bed with his impact. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

Sakusa waves him off with a hand before rolling over to tuck his face into Atsumu’s neck, humming contentedly. Atsumu’s heart squeezes almost painfully, reluctant emotions rising to the surface. Atsumu hooks an arm around Sakusa’s torso and pulls him closer until he remembers the sticky mess left on Sakusa’s stomach.

“Ack,” Atsumu gripes. “We gotta get you cleaned up.”

“No point, really,” Sakusa murmurs into his neck. “Not yet, anyways.” Atsumu’s confusion must be obvious as the silence ensues, prompting Sakusa to sit up from his spot beside him. He eyes Atsumu with a certain type of scrutiny that says  _ are you joking? Or are you really just that dumb? _

“We aren’t finished,” Sakusa divulges with an intensity looming in his gaze reserved for the moments when he’s feeling especially frisky, or so Atsumu has come to discover.

“Yeah?”

Sakusa pushes Atsumu back on the mattress with renewed energy before climbing up the length of his legs and straddling his thighs. Atsumu notices that Sakusa takes a moment, running over the pronounced muscles with soft fingertips.

“You’re not leaving this apartment until you come, Atsumu,” Sakusa chides, looking up to meet Atsumu’s gaze before gripping his cock with long slender fingers.

Atsumu’s eyes widen, the unexpected touch has him heading back to the edge. Sakusa works him without looking away, witnesses Atsumu’s surprise shift to arousal clear across his face.

“Woah,” Atsumu breathes, transfixed with the weird angle of Sakusa’s wrist and how it somehow makes him want to tear apart at the seams. “Yer wrists are freaky,” he says instead because all of the blood in his body has taken up residence in his dick apparently.

“You’re welcome, asshole,” is Sakusa’s only response.

Fair enough. Atsumu feels rightfully scolded and decides not to open his mouth again for the sake of his orgasm.

Sakusa doesn’t pause as he reaches behind him to grab the wayward bottle of lube. Atsumu doesn’t miss the wince that contorts Sakusa’s face at the motion, there and gone again, but before he can comment, Sakusa is opening the bottle and pouring some directly onto the tip of Atsumu’s dick.

It cascades down the length for a brief moment, both of them watching as it rolls down his length likely. Atsumu shivers before Sakusa is working him again, a hungry gleam in his eyes. 

His motions are faster this time, and Atsumu thinks for a moment that he might be trying to speed the process up. After having come twice already, Atsumu doesn’t blame him, and it’s not like he has any complaints. After leaning on the knife’s edge for so long, he’s more than ready to go over the edge.

But then Sakusa’s hand stills, gripping the base of Atsumu’s flush cock, halting any chance of the sweet relief he’s chasing in its tracks.

“Wh-why?” Atsumu whines, flexing his hips but Sakusa’s grip stays firm, following Atsumu’s motions closely.

“I was just buying myself some time,” he explains, finally loosening his hold before scooting forward on Atsumu’s legs. “I want your dick inside me when you come.”

And it’s weird, really. Both the way Sakusa says it without any change in expression, and the way it makes Atsumu’s cock twitch again. How can someone so prickly and deadpan turn him on so much? Atsumu wants to sob, but forgets his turmoil a moment later as Sakusa sits up on his knees and lines Atsumu’s cock up to his entrance.

“Ready for me to rock your world?” Sakusa parrots, smiling smugly, a brow arched in amusement.

And then he’s sinking his entire weight onto Atsumu, his hole sheathing Atsumu’s whole cock in one go. It’s only as Sakusa is crying out, hands fisted on Atsumu’s chest that he realizes Sakusa is hard again. Not fully, but enough to be a bit of a shock when Atsumu sees it.

Sakusa rocks his hips, punching a moan from Atsumu. It doesn’t take long for Sakusa to speed up his tempo, biting his lips as he rides Atsumu’s aching cock.

Sakusa is in a different world entirely, granting Atsumu the rare opportunity to study him without any shame involved. The pout of his lips, the slope of his nose, the fucking moles. Scathing comment always at the ready, but quick to soften under Atsumu’s touch.

“So pretty when you ride my cock, baby,” Atsumu croaks, spurring Sakusa to slide all the way to the top and back down again. “Fuck, Omi.”

“I- ah- Can’t,” Sakusa whines, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye and rolling down his cheek. “Too sensitive.”

“S’okay. I got you,” he soothes, cupping Sakusa’s face in his palm to swipe at the track it’d left before pulling Sakusa down on his chest and stroking a hand along the length of his back .  They lay unmoving like that for a beat before Atsumu begins moving again.

Pressing his elbows into the mattress for added support, Atsumu grips Sakusa’s hip and lifts before slamming into him. Sakusa’s eyes fly open as a groan slips from his parted lips. Atsumu’s back arches off the mattress, thoughts running slow and syrupy, chasing after his relief with every pump of his hips.

Atsumu fucks up into his hole with a driven precision, knows he’s hitting all the right spots by Sakusa’s totally blissed out expression, eyes unseeing and mouth agape as moan after moan is punched out of him.

And then, as if held up by a string that suddenly snaps, Sakusa collapses to on top of a chest with a groan, arms wrapping around the back of Atsumu’s neck, holding on for dear life. Atsumu tilts his head to avoid Sakusa’s curls brushing the tip of his nose.

“So wrecked for me,” Atsumu croons before nipping the shoulder in front of him before trailing slipping kisses up the side of Sakusa’s neck and sucking on his neck. Sakusa’s brow furrows when Atsumu bites down on the supple flesh, more lewd sounds slipping past his lips. “M’ close.”

“Take me-  _ hnngh _ oh fuck. Take me with you, Atsu. Wanna come again on your cock.”

_ Again? _ Is Sakusa Kiyoomi even human?

Atsumu’s hips kick into overdrive, pounding relentlessly as Sakusa keens into his ear, strung out on pleasure and over sensitivity, a deadweight on Atsumu’s chest. The delicious pressure between his thighs continues to mount, spurring faster, stronger, hotter until Atsumu is delirious with want.

“Fuck-  _ ah.  _ Gonna come, baby.”

Sakusa pulls back enough to get his lips on Atsumu’s, melting into the kiss. It’s just as Atsumu begins fucking Sakusa’s mouth with his tongue that Sakusa cries out, nails digging in where his hold has shifted to Atsumu’s shoulders, scrabbling for purchase as he convulses atop Atsumu.

Atsumu’s hips stutter once, twice, and then galaxies explode behind his eyelids as he follows Sakusa over the edge. He doesn’t sob, but it’s a very near thing as his eyes start to water with his release.

Atsumu can’t remember a time when it felt quite like this, every errant and useless thought smoothing over, until only Sakusa Kiyoomi remains.

For a moment, everything stills, their breathing the only sound in the room as they try to reorientate themselves in this new reality. Goosebumps ghost over his skin, he’s sticky in places he doesn’t even want to begin to question, but there’s a deep satisfaction streaming through his veins, undiminished and warm.

“Ya good?” Atsumu asks after Sakusa’s breathing seems to even out, the silence not unwelcome, but now that Atsumu’s soul has returned to his body, he wants to ensure Sakusa is faring okay.

“Real good,” Sakusa hums without bothering to open his eyes from his place atop Atsumu’s chest. 

Sakusa peels himself from Atsumu’s skin, stuck together from the remaining traces of Sakusa’s orgasm before pulling off of him with a grimace.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Atsumu offers, grabbing the box of tissues from Sakusa’s bedside table and holding it in the air between them, brow raised in silent question.

Sakusa shakes his head before taking the box and setting it back in its original spot.

“No. Let’s go shower,” he counters, wincing as he raises to his full height beside the bed, extending his arm and offering a palm. Late afternoon filters in where the curtains part, casting the room in deep sepia tones as Atsumu sweeps Sakusa’s face for any additional discomfort.

He’s relieved to find none, smiling softly as he takes Sakusa’s proffered hand and allows himself to be pulled towards the bathroom.

—x—

“You know,” Sakusa begins, cheek pressed to Atsumu’s chest when they’re lying in bed again later. “This isn’t something I usually do.”

Atsumu did not expect the invitation, but certainly doesn’t turn down the chance to spend even just a little more time wrapped around the man that made him lose it so thoroughly. It’s a comforting yet severe contrast to how they’ve spent their time together so far and Atsumu finds himself softening just a bit at the light touches and gentle grazing of lips.

“Whaddaya mean?” Atsumu asks absently, more concerned with carding his fingers through Sakusa’s impossibly soft curls. Even after showering, Atsumu’s own hair remains untamable, split ends licking up in every direction.

“This,” Sakusa replies, hoisting their joined hands in the air before lowering it back to Atsumu’s chest.

“Holding hands?” Atsumu wishes he could see Sakusa’s face, but it remains tucked into his chest and hidden from view. 

“That too,” Sakusa responds after a moment. “But I meant taking home strangers.”

“Ya mean, ya don’t usually ogle a stranger while he works out until he feels compelled to follow you home?” Atsumu teases.

Sakusa huffs, raising his head to meet Atsumu’s gaze. His flush is stark against his cheekbones, lips puffed and tucked pointedly downwards.

“Don’t pout, Omi-Omi. S’ too cute. I can’t handle it,” Atsumu chuckles, pinching Sakusa’s cheek.

“Stop teasing me,” He glowers, vexation contorting his features as he swipes Atsumu’s hand away. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

“Alright, alright,” Atsumu placates, free-hand raised in submission. “Sorry Omi, yer just fun to mess with. Yer face gets all twisted up. S’ really funny.”

“Hilarious,” Sakusa deadpans.

“Anyways,” Atsumu chuckles, pulling their clasped hands to his lips to mouth at Sakusa’s knuckles. “I don’t really do this either. It wouldn’t be good for me to take home a stranger every time I go to the gym. I’m there like every day.”

“I meant casual sex in general,” Sakusa clarifies, gaze straying meekly to the side. “I don’t really know how to do… this.” He gestures vaguely with his free hand.

Atsumu’s heart clenches, throat tight as he watches the shift in emotions play out on Sakusa’s face. He tries and fails to tamp down the hope of something more.

_ Don’t get ahead of yourself _ .

And yet the hope remains.

“S’okay,” Atsumu grins, cupping Sakusa’s face before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. “I can help ya.”

And it’s not until they’re settled, Sakusa’s back to Atsumu’s chest that he decides to broach the topic, fatigue fogging his brain enough to grant him the courage to do so.

“Ya know…” Atsumu begins, the first fragments of sleep trickling in and keeping his tone low and smooth. “This doesn’t have to just be a casual thing… if ya want, I mean.”

“Hmmm,” Sakusa hums contentedly. “Let’s talk about it in the morning over breakfast.”

“Sounds like a plan, Omi.”

Atsumu smiles against Sakusa’s neck, pressing a soft kiss there before backing away and giving him a little room. It’s only minutes later that Sakusa’s breathing evens out as he’s lulled to sleep.

And it’s not until he’s on the precipice of his own slumber that he remembers the dishes he left soaking in the sink at home. He jolts, eyes widening as he realizes just how much shit he’s in for, especially when staying the night out without a text or phone call is taken into the equation.

Sakusa stirs beside him, shifting himself back closer to Atsumu’s chest. His face is soft with sleep, the irritated lines usually present on his brow are smoothed over as he rests and it sends a pang shooting right through him.

He’ll worry about Osamu later.

Right now, he wants to enjoy this for as long as he can.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have finally, FINALLY contributed to the tag of the ship that’s slowly been destroying my life as I know it. How can I love something so much I hate it? Or do I hate it so much that I love it? Who knows. But these two are all I think about.
> 
> WOW. Okay. So this was my first true attempt at smut so don’t look to closely at the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing. That being said, I will have two more one shots posted throughout the week in participation of HQ Thirstmas 2020. If you liked this, stick around. If you didn’t, I’m sorry. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!
> 
> Come yell at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/lokurochan)  
> 


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